Lance Loam comes crashing through the atmosphere at approx. 10,000 kms per hour. Leaving endless other worlds behind him, he appears like a shadow in the dawn sky along the eastern coastline of Australia. On the national news and numerous radio stations that same day, it was reported that a large prehistoric bird was falling to its death from the sun.
The creature falls to earth but not to its death, in violent contortions of flame bursting ruin. As the fireball drops from the clouds pounding into earth, the wind had dropped and the earth itself is still and curious. More rain seems eminent. The clouds have risen higher with the heat that has tipped their edges.
The creature has fallen through eternity. Charred and bloody it squats, enfolded by its dark wings, cringing in the soil. The body and sky become black. Space ash floats on the air 2 kms away from where the creature has landed. Nappies are brought in from the clothesline to be washed again.
In an explosion of anguish and misery, the creature is hissing, rattling and spitting obscenities brought with it from the place it has come. The earth has quietened and the surrounding eucalypt are breezy with a slight still dawn.
FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL FOR LEAVING ME HERE! I'M ALONE! I'M ALONE! FUCK YOU! It shrieks and the burnt skin of the throat crackles and weeps.
Lance Loam is creature. He staggers with a weight of terrible wings, exposing himself to sky. He waits for a reply from it foreverness. Vengeful and suffering to be left like this. Breathing white hatred through the pores of his skin. He almost collapses beneath the weight of his own grief. He is mortally weak from the fall.
He is breathing corruption. He is truly forsaken. He is desperate to murder and to shed his own blood. He screams back through the sky, with a hot lolling tongue and huge blistered eyes. Weary from darkness and afraid of the light. His rolling split eyes in the shadow of dawn. Hot screams of agony, into and beyond the potential sun.
IF YOU THINK I'M STAYING IN THIS FUCKING HOLE YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING! TAKE ME BACK FUCK YOU! He cries out his despair. No reply from the atmosphere. No sound from the earth.
The air is crisp and wavering in the aftermath of earth-flight. Lance Loam screams at nothing but himself. Hot mustard spittle splays about his face, wrapping in threads around ear and forehead. Sticking to his eyeballs. TAKE ME BACK FUCK YOU! But the voice is weaker, has lost its power.
Already the dawn is breaking, the red sun angered. Lance squashes the dense fertile earth and ugly insects beneath his feet. His head is floundering from side to side in fury and agony. Torturous poisons within his now frail chest, surge up through his neck, lapping the soul of his mind.
Since he came to this place and before, he has been burning up on the inside. He has been falling forever from darkness into foreverness. For eons upon eons nothing for him to grasp onto, but the darkness of himself. The earth stirs, draws in breath for a sigh of relief as a new sun rises in the east.
Lance Loam tunes his tunneling eyes. He will not accept this misery. Will not endure this pain. With one huge tremendous burst of his violent black wings, he plunges head first down into earth. Throwing up buckets full of clay and dark roots behind him.
